


Guiltless Release

by CramerGirl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CramerGirl/pseuds/CramerGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conceptual story about the illicit encounters between Ventress and Obi-Wan Kenobi during the Clone Wars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guiltless Release

He could not remember how the affair began, perhaps due to the clouding effect from the Darkside. Through the memory haze, he remembered sensing similar emotions tied to love and loss, regret, guilt and frustration - heightened in her, repressed by him; both needing something or someone to fill a void. Her feelings more pronounced as she used raw emotion to feed her power. His energy came from mastering passion and dark thoughts, though he was human and needs are needs. He sometimes, to maintain balance that all Jedi seek, desired to surrender emotionally.

Perhaps, he thought, it was their shared vulnerability of love and loss that drew them, always briefly, together.

Secretly, he cared about her path, feeling that she could still turn to the light, but kept her dark course out of stubbornness, spite and fear. He wanted her to find peace.

Secretly, she was happy he cared. No, that  _someone_  cared. She never felt used by him. Everyone else, including her dark Master, used her for something. His signature projected honesty, which she respected even when they fought fiercely and their lives were on the line. She knew he wanted her to let go and find peace, but she felt too wounded to release her pain.

Though never planned in advance, their elicit encounters started, not by saber or malice, but through a feeling simultaneously projected through the Force. Neither wanted anything more than chance meetings. She was incapable of emotional commitment, anyway, and he took a vow forbidding it. At least they were honest; this was not love – they weren’t interested- this was a release from the stress of war.

They fucked, never ‘making love.’ He knew the difference from his past loves, Siri and Satine. This was quick, aggressive, lustful sex. Their couplings left bruises, bite marks and drew blood. She left nail marks on his back and chest and drew blood from biting his lip. He left bruised hickies on her neck, breasts and thighs and bite marks on her shoulders and nape. His beard left strawberry-red rash marks on her chin and, if lucky, inbetween her thighs. She never concealed sex wounds from her Master, though she knew she ought. It was her way of maintaining independence; her own space.

He liked making excuses to his hide injuries and torn clothing. Though somehow Anakin always knew about the secret liaisons and played dumb, a mixture of amusement and respect.

They rarely needed foreplay. Arousal was in the anticipation of coupling. After projecting a signature tug in the Force, one sent the other coordinates to a neutral planet or quiet, unassuming location. She often laid in wait, wet with anticipation; he arrived hard trying to conceal his arousal under his flowing cloak and thick robes. She always chuckled at this concealment attempt as if he were chaste; knowing that he’d take her in his arms and press it against her. That’s how she knew he was ready.

She loved ripping off his cloak and feverishly stripping away his tunic to expose his battle worn chest and arms. Each time tracing his scarred wounds with her long fingers. She bit the ones she gave him listening for his gasps of pleasure. That was her only possession over him. He always let her undress him preferring she exposed his vulnerability first. Then, always a gentleman, he wrapped his callused hands around her waist, pressing himself against her and drinking in her scent from breasts to chin. He craved her half-human sweat; a mixture of sweet, salt…and something completely unidentifiably alien but unique to her.

If he was lucky, she’d allow him to kiss her while cupping her breasts and lifting her top. He always bit her shoulders when his rough but gentile hand traveled south under her skirt to feel her wetness. If she was lucky, he’d taste her while her fingers moved through his sandy red hair, pressing him deeper. He loved to hear her moan. She never reciprocated. Nearing climax, she would pull his hair, tugging him upwards to kiss him and share her taste while her other hand stripped away his belt and opened his pant, exposing him. They were never completely naked. Somehow, that felt too familiar.

No matter the position, he would take her by plunging deep inside, making her silently scream. She was never prepared for his aggressive entry; he loved taking her without ceremony. He nipped and bit her neck and shoulders while thrusting, enjoying her breasts moving against him and hearing her whimpers. She dug her nails into his back, preferring he dominated her, but enjoying him wince. She would have her way the next time they fought.

His pace quickened when he felt her grip him inside and her Force signature press against his chest. He grew addicted to her orgasm, though it was silent, pained-looking and released something private. She loved that he made her release first and pulled him closer, deeper with her arms and Force until his grunts quickened. He always closed his eyes. She watched him come and held him deep inside until he returned from his mind’s recess, out of breath. He always felt balanced after pulling out and away from her grasp. She felt relief, too.

After consummation, they quickly dressed in silence, always silence. His wide-eyed parting glance left her unquestioning. Her smirk told him everything he needed to know. Both left the scent of the other linger on them for days.


End file.
